


Stay

by touchmytardis



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, First Kisses, Fluff, Intercrural Sex, John Segundus deserves all the good things, Jonathan Strange Is Bisexual, M/M, Vague Sexual Situations, implicit angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29365920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchmytardis/pseuds/touchmytardis
Summary: Before going to Italy, Jonathan Strange paid a visit to Starecross Hall.
Relationships: John Segundus/Jonathan Strange
Comments: 10
Kudos: 6
Collections: JSAMN Valentine's Rarepair Fest!





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slow_Burn_Sally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slow_Burn_Sally/gifts).



> Based on the prompt:
> 
> "Strange, overcome with grief (or just really bummed out) over Arabella's perceived death, heads to Starecross Hall to do things (talk magic? try to find a way to bring Arabella back from the dead? For ... reasons?) and Segundus who's been crushing hard on him for ages, tries consoling him with some soft kisses or hair touches or nasty nasty E rated sex..." 
> 
> It does not tick all the boxes but hopefully it ticks enough of them!

Starecross was not an easy place to find. The moors seemed to stretch for days and it looked as though some of the roads might lead right to faerie (they did not, Jonathan Strange asked his driver to stop so he could investigate each and every one of them – none of them seemed particularly magical). It was fully dark by the time they finally got there, and Strange was not surprised when John Segundus did not come outside to greet them as he had not even informed him that he was indeed going to visit.

John (for this was the name of his driver) went to locate the stables while Strange was left to knock on the large doors. Hours (or so it seemed) passed as he waited. Finally, the door opened by a man with bright hair and blue eyes – a servant. ”Evening sir, how can I help you?”

”How indeed,” murmured Strange as he let his gaze wander over the pretty servant’s body.

”Excuse me?”

”My apologies. I am Jonathan Strange, a friend of Mr. Segundus. He does live here, does he not?”

”Certainly. Is he expecting you?”

”Well. He did invite me.”

”I’m sorry, sir. We must act with great caution and not let any strangers inside the Halls. Surely you understand?”

”I do not,” Strange was once again losing his patience. He had not had any contact with Segundus since the letter of condolence where he had been invited to stay at Starecross ’ _when ever you have the need to be somewhere else_ ’, and was now starting to wonder if he should perhaps have responded to that letter. Segundus had not mentioned anything about circumstances where caution was needed. And nothing of a handsome manservant.

”I must ask my master if he does, indeed, know you.”

”Are you-” Strange began, ”Have you never heard of me?”

”You are a magician, no?”

”I am.”

”All the more reason to be wary. I wont be a moment.”

He was, however, a moment. Several moments, in fact. John (his driver) returned from the stables, brow furrowed and boots muddy.

”Not a single soul nor horse!”

”Most peculiar," said Strange.

”I looked for some servant’s entrance but-”

”No worries, John. I am sure Mr Segundus can sort this out.”

After several more moments, they saw a light spreading in one of the windows further down the house, and the door opened once again, revealing a half-dressed John Segundus.

”Mr Strange!” cried Segundus, a wide smile on his face and arms gesturing for both men to come inside.

Pleasantries were exchanged, Charles (for that was the fair haired servant’s name) showed John (the driver) to a bed in the servant’s quarter. They had tea and bread and Segundus explained that Starecross had become a madhouse, though their only charge was scarcely mad, only a bit disturbed.

”She speaks fondly of your-” Segundus’ stopped himself, cleared his throat and continued. ”It is Sir Walter Pole’s wife, Emma.”

How Strange had not heard even the vaguest of rumours of this, he did not understand. Emma Pole had been a close friend to Arabella, and Sir Walter had been something of a friend to Strange (though not as intimate a friendship as that between their wives). Segundus explained what he could explain, and told him that Lady Pole had asked for Arabella several times. He then offered Strange his deepest condolences, and asked if he wanted to speak of her. He did not, and chose to tell Segundus about the book he was writing, ’ _The History and Practice of English Magic’_ as they finished their meal.

And then they were alone in front of the dying fire in the library. Segundus had told Charles he need not worry, they had their brandy and would soon be off to bed. Charles smiled a most brilliant smile and told them the smaller of the guest bedrooms had been prepared before leaving.

”He is very handsome.”

”Oh, is he? I had not noticed,” replied Segundus, his voice lofty and the shadow of a smile on his lips.

”Should I be jealous?”

”Mr Strange!” Segundus blushed.

”It would, of course, be the most natural thing in the world, would it not. This place _is_ very secluded. I can imagine you would get lonely,” said Strange, raising an eyebrow as he looked at his friend again.

”Jonathan!” Segundus said a bit louder, but with laughter in his voice. How he had missed that sound! When the smile spread on Segundus’ face, a smile so wide that Strange could see his dimples, he decided that the long journey was worth it. It was, quite possibly, the most beautiful smile Strange had seen.

They did not speak much. Strange supposed that the other man was waiting for him to break the silence, but he felt that simply being in Segundus’ company was enough for now. He sipped his brandy and looked at his friend.

”You are staring at me!” exclaimed Segundus, pulling Strange out of his thoughts. ”I’m afraid I have aged quite a bit since we last met.” He was a bit thinner, quite a bit greyer, but he had not aged nearly as much as Strange had. He considered telling Segundus this, but decided that perhaps it could wait.

”It’s good to see you.”

A while later, after they had wished each other a good night, Strange stood by his door and whispered into the darkness. This was a magic he had not used since the war and he realised that he enjoyed it; it felt like a stretching a muscle one has not used for a long time.

He wandered down the corridor, unheard and unseen (not that anyone was awake to hear nor see him) in the dark. The door opened before he had even knocked; before he had even reached it. Segundus pulled him inside and closed the door carefully.

”You were using magic!” he said with an accusatory tone to his voice.

”Yes?”

”You know what that does to me.”

It was then Strange saw how dark Segundus’ eyes were, how tousled his hair and how flushed his cheeks. He most certainly knew what magic did to John Segundus. He had learnt what magic did to John Segundus the very first time they had met in private. An inn somewhere in England, where Strange had cast a simple spell just to see if he was correct in thinking Segundus would sense it. He had sensed it then and he most certainly had sensed it now.

”Why, Mr Segundus, are you telling me-”

”Oh, shush. What do you want?”

”Can I sleep here?”

Segundus’ eyes widened, and hesitation seemed to pass over his face for a moment, but then his features softened again, and he nodded. Candles were put down and put out, dressing robes hung over chairs and then they were both in Segundus’ bed. It was large enough to fit both of them without any need for an intimacy which Strange was not certain he was ready for. Knowing he was not alone, feeling the weight and warmth of another person next to him and hearing Segundus’ breaths was perfectly fine.

”I missed you,” whispered Strange, but got no response as the other man had already fallen asleep.

Strange had fallen asleep some time after Segundus, and woke up with Segundus’ arm wrapped around his waist. Segundus’ entire body was pressed against him, his breath was warm on his neck and his prick pressing against his arse. He was being held. He carefully put a hand over Segundus’ and pressed it against his own erection.

”Oh, good morning,” Segundus murmured into his hair, slowly stirring and slowly wrapping his fingers around Strange’s prick. Just as he had remembered it; a delicate and yet firm grip.

”Indeed,” Strange replied, moving his hips first into Segundus’ hand, and then back, pressing his arse against Segundus.

Things progressed quickly from there. Segundus pulled up both their nightshirts and eagerly dragged his hand along Strange’s stomach, hip, thigh. The hand disappeared for a moment as Segundus moved behind him, and then he felt Segundus’ prick, now slick with saliva, against his arse and Segundus’ hand back on his own erection. Soft lips were placing kisses and whispering filth against the skin on Strange’s neck. They were moving against each other – Segundus’ prick sliding between Strange’s buttocks and Segundus’ hand stroking Strange’s cock. Skin touching skin in so many ways and in so many places. Their breaths became heavier, shorter – louder. Segundus made these sounds, short and needy whines, that always made Strange mad with pleasure.

With a final indecent remark moaned into Strange’s hair, Segundus’ breath hitched and he climaxed, at the same time speeding up his strokes until Strange threw his head back against Segundus and moaned, shuddered and spilled into Segundus’ hand. 

Strange stayed in bed, watching as Segundus readied himself for the day. With the drapes pulled away from the large window, the room was illuminated by a bright sun that made the grey in Segundus’ hair shine in a way not entirely unlike frost on a sunny winter morning.

”Jonathan.”

”Hm?"

”You must have something better to do than to study me,” Segundus said softly as he stood in front of the large mirror and combed his hair. Their gaze met somewhere over Segundus’ shoulder.

“Not at the moment,” answered Strange, smiling as the familiar blush crept up Segundus’ cheeks.

He listened as Segundus told him what his days were like, how he had come to consider Lady Pole a friend, and how he spent most of his waking hours with her. She would sleep between eight in the evening until eight in the morning, always twelve hours exactly. It was odd, Segundus admitted, but he supposed she had gotten used to these routines (and they suited him perfectly well as it gave him some hours in the night to study magic; something he did not want to do in the presence of Lady Pole) and they did not seem to be doing any harm.

Segundus was almost fully dressed now. He had just finished tying his neckcloth, and was now looking at it with a frown. “I am sorry that I will not have more time to spend with you, but I suppose you will be somewhat busy with your own work?” He sighed, undid the knot and started over again.

”Oh, I can assure you I will be more than happy to spend the nights with you,” Strange grinned and felt very pleased with himself when he saw Segundus’ cheeks turning red again. He then got out of the bed, with the blanket thrown over his shoulders, and stood behind Segundus. "I mean it," he said as he pried the cloth from Segundus' hands and quickly tied it around the other man's neck. "Is it too tight?"

Segundus lifted his hand, first touching his collar and then Strange's hand. This was already more intimate than Strange had planned for.

"No. It's perfect. Thank you," said Segundus, smiling softly into the mirror.

Seeing Segundus' smile and feeling his fingers , being wrapped in his blanket and smelling his skin, Strange decided that perhaps he did not mind the intimacy. And so, being Jonathan Strange; second magician of England, first magician to the Royal Family, he did what he did best. He acted on his impulse. He put his hands on Segundus' arms and spun him around, and then moved closer - and kissed him. 

Seven years had passed since they had first been intimate, and yet this was their first kiss. It was brief and chaste, but it was enough to make something inside of Strange's chest flutter. 

Strange was served a frugal breakfast in the kitchen ('apologies, but Lady Pole and Mr Segundus have most of their meals in her rooms') and was then shewed to the library. It was small, but suited Strange's purposes; all he needed was privacy and a desk. Some time after Charles (it was always Charles, even though Strange could have sworn there were other servants there) had brought him his tea, there was another knock on the door. Segundus.

"Do you have a minute?" he asked after he had entered the room and closed the door. Strange responded with a smile and a gesture that was supposed to convey 'please, come in' but which may have looked more vulgar because Segundus walked towards him with a very determined look in his eyes. Strange stood up and was shocked when Segundus (the man who had scarcely dared speak to him the first couple of times they met) pushed him against one of the shelves and kissed him. 

It was nothing like the soft kiss from this morning. Segundus was pressing his body against Strange, his hand on Strange's hip and his tongue licking its way into Strange's mouth. He was being rough and eager and it made Strange come apart completely. After the initial shock, he responded; lips parting and hands roaming. But Segundus took Strange's wrists in his hands and pushed them back against the shelf, he pulled back a bit and looked at Strange with a suggestive look in his eyes. And then he got down on his knees.

On the fourth night, as they were gasping into each other’s mouths, Strange finally asked Segundus to take him. Segundus blushed, and then whispered ”yes,” over and over again as he pushed Strange onto his back. Strange went very quiet, because Segundus was pressing down on him, kissing him with the same ferocity he had shewn in the library two days earlier.

He had always imagined buggering to be a rough and quick affair, but it seemed Segundus had an entirely different view of matters. His kisses grew softer and slower and his touch even gentler, and then he was settling down between Strange’s legs, spreading them wide; his gaze never left Strange’s, perhaps because he wanted to be sure he was doing everything right, or perhaps because he wanted to see how Strange would react.

”You are sure you want this?” Segundus’ voice was different. Not much, but just enough for Strange to notice the slightly darkened edge. He uncorked the vial and let some oil drip onto his fingers. Three fingers. Strange simply nodded, took a deep breath and waited for some sort of pain. He was not sure what he was expecting, but he had heard stories in the Peninsula. Raw and vulgar and a bit dirty. The oil smelled of roses and the warm fingers pushing into him were soft and slow. There was a moment of discomfort, but then Segundus leaned down and kissed him as he moved his fingers deep inside of him and Strange thought he might die.

”John!” he gasped.

”Do you want me to stop?” asked Segundus as he started to pull his fingers out. ”Am I hurting you?”

Strange let out a short laugh. ”No, no, no. Please _don’t_ stop,” he begged. With a smile and a kiss, Segundus pushed his fingers back inside, a bit quicker and a bit harder. It was like nothing Strange had ever felt before; he had never had been taken like this before and he was glad Segundus was the person doing it. He had a most intense look on his face and Strange was sure Segundus had done this before. Perhaps even several times, because he knew just which spot to apply pressure to and just the right time to involve the third oily finger in the debauching.

When Segundus started pushing his prick into Strange, it actually hurt. He had not expected the difference between fingers and prick to be this great, but now he thought it would never be possible for all of Segundus to be inside of him. He looked up, and bit back a moan when he saw the way John Segundus was looking at him. Dark eyes and mouth just a bit open, chest heaving and flushed. And then the most lascivious smile spread on his lips.

”Tell me what it feels like,” he whispered.

”Oh God,” gasped Strange. ”It feels,” he moaned again, his fingers clutched at the bedsheets and his hips seemed to move on their own, towards Segundus, urging him on. ”What- oh God,” Strange gasped. Segundus was thrusting in and out of him and it was too much. Not too much, just enough. Almost too much.”John. John, John, John,” he closed his eyes and lost all thoughts.

After, as they were breathing together, both men too exhausted to get up and clean up, they talked. They spoke of Arabella (briefly) which then turned into conversations of Lady Pole, and then Norrell and Childermass and Mrs Lennox. Strange told Segundus about his book and the three pupils he had began tutoring only a month or so ago, Segundus told Strange about the plans he still harboured to start a school and how much he had enjoyed tutoring magic before the plans of a school were even conceived. Strange then told Segundus that he was planning on going to Italy after he had left the book with his publisher and Segundus told him he thought it was a splendid idea.

"Splendid? Really?" asked Strange.

"Oh yes. You will meet new and interesting people. I have heard that the women-"

"John."

"Yes?"

"Will you come with me?"

More days passed and Strange spent most of them in the library, working on the book or with his pupils (they were tutored via letter correspondence for the duration of his stay). Nights and mornings were spent in the arms of John Segundus. Weeks passed and the last chapter was finished, leaving only minor changes and for a good friend and fellow magician to read it through one last time. May was coming to an end; it rained for days and the cold seemed to seep into their bones as they lay in each others arms. Over and over again, Strange asked Segundus to come with him to Europe, but was turned down every time:

”I have an obligation to Lady Pole,” or ”perhaps you need some time alone,” or (and this was the one Strange disliked the most) ”I will still be here when you return to England, if you still want me.”

The first two excuses were reasonable: of course Segundus could not simply drop his charge to go travelling; and it was very likely that Strange would benefit from spending some time in a new place, with new people; it would help him find a place in his heart for both Arabella and John Segundus. But he could not imagine a scenario in which he did not want Segundus anymore. He told him as much, on several occasions, but the matter was never resolved because the conversation always seemed to turn to more carnal matters at this point.

Strange stayed for a little over a month, but it felt like much less time had passed. The book was nearly finished, and Strange needed to return to London for the final amendments; and to deliver the finished volume to Mr Murray. He was leaving.

”Just promise that you will write,” said Segundus.

”Of course I will! You know I will stay if-”

”No. No, you need to do this, Jonathan. Just write to me, and I will write back and then-”

”And then I will come back to you.”

He wanted to kiss Segundus, then. By the little bridge at Starecross Hall, where John (the driver) was already seated and waiting. They embraced; an embrace that felt far too short but which held all the promises of their future together. They said their good byes and Strange took one last look at John Segundus and Starecross Hall. He would be back before the year was over and he was going to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that Strange really does return to Starecross, just a bit later than planned.


End file.
